Mardi Gras Misunderstanding
by LadyofDodge
Summary: This story takes place after season 19 and is yet another attempt to explain Kitty's disappearance from Dodge. Kitty turned in the warm circle of his arms, her own slender arms reaching around his neck...
1. Chapter 1

**"Mardi Gras Misunderstanding"**

**Disclaimer: No ownership, no profit...just love and nostalgia for these wonderful characters.**

**Chapter One**

Kitty turned in the warm circle of his strong arms, her own slender arms reaching around his neck as he pressed his hand into the small of her back and drew her close against him. Their shadows played on the creamy yellow walls of the lamp lit parlor, casting a warm image and surely bringing a smile to the lips of anyone passing by on this steamy, sultry evening.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his breath coming quicker, heavier as he spoke into the thick auburn curls. His hands, strong, competent and gentle, much like the man himself, moved slowly across her silk-clad back.

Kitty leaned momentarily into his embrace and then drew back. "Please…stop…I, I…can't do this. I thought I could…thought I was ready, but…I, I'm not. I can't. I…I'm sorry. I didn't't mean to lead you on. I just…"

"It's all right, Kitty; it's all right." John Chapman groaned, but his slow, soft cadence fell on her ears as gently as the kiss he pressed against her brow.

"I'm so embarrassed, John, and so sorry. I just…oh, I don't know."

"I think you do know, Kitty. I think we both know."

Lifting her incredible sapphire eyes to his face, she smiled sadly and nodded.

He hugged her close. "I'll see you tomorrow night," he said, as he let himself out of the house and into the torrential rain that had descended upon the French Quarter.

If she had walked him to the door, she might have noticed the lone figure leaving the shelter of the building across the rain slick street and limping away into the teeming downpour.

The late night fog, the soft glow from the street lamps, the filmy filter of the lace curtains all combined to cast a dreamlike quality on the little tableau taking place in the parlor of the tiny house on St. Ann Street. But for the big man watching intently from the darkened doorway across the street, it wasn't a dream. It was his worst nightmare.

Black slicker flapping in the wind, he let out an uncharacteristic curse, sighed deeply and turned away. Had he waited another minute, he would have seen the door across the street open. He would have seen the costumed man leave the house and motion to the carriage driver on the corner. And he would have known that the beautiful lady of the house went to bed alone.

Moving as quickly as the ever-present pain in his right leg would allow, he made his way toward the train station. Sweating in the humid night, and straining to see through the fog and rain, he finally could discern the outline of the flat-roofed building that served as the depot. With his mind focused on the scene he had just witnessed, and intent on reaching the station in time to catch the next train west, he never noticed the five young thugs closing in on him.


	2. Chapter 2

**MARDI GRAS MISUNDERSTANDING**

**Disclaimer: No ownership, no profit...just love and nostalgia for these wonderful characters.**

**Note: Many thanks to Amanda for allowing Charlotte and Ira and the** _**New Orleans Lady**_**to venture out of her wonderful "Haunted Heart" and into my little tale.**

**Chapter Two**

It was the pre-Lenten season, and Mardi Gras revelry was in full swing. Costumed balls and elaborate dinner parties occupied every waking moment. Masked men and women danced in each other's arms night after night, often until a new day rose over the mighty Mississippi, only to return home to sleep and prepare for the next night's round of frivolity.

All throughout the festival season, Kitty Russell and John Chapman had been among the colorfully costumed couples, dancing 'til dawn and going home to whatever the day brought their way. For Kitty, returning to her little shotgun house in the heart of La Vieux Carre, it meant catching a few hours of sleep, changing clothes and heading down St. Ann Street to the river, often stopping at the Café du Monde for her favorite breakfast of café au lait and beignets.

Once at the riverfront, she moved easily and confidently among the bales of hemp and cotton, smiling at the men who greeted her with a soft "Miss Kitty," as they touched the brims of their hats and gazed wistfully after her. She was a familiar figure on the riverfront, admired for her beauty and respected for her fair and honest dealings with the dockworkers who delivered the finest Kentucky bourbon and imported wines and champagnes to the_New Orleans Lady._

Ah, the _"Lady,"_ that beautiful, ornate, classy and intriguing gambling palace, much like its redheaded owner herself. The big paddlewheeler regularly wound her way through the muddy waters, stopping at Natchez and Vicksburg, occasionally winding north as far as Memphis, but always returning to her moorings on the New Orleans waterfront.

On the third day after the Krewe of Proteus Ball and Kitty's subsequent rejection of John Chapman's advances, he sought her out as she moved among the men and bales and barrels and packing crates. They had attended one dinner party and another ball in the three days since then, and it was as if that other evening, that moment, had never happened. Each respected the other entirely too much to refer to the subject again.

And so it was with honest astonishment that Kitty turned and looked at the man who caught her arm at the foot of the _"Lady's"_ gangplank.

"Kitty, we need to talk."

"I thought we...what's wrong, John?"

"Can we go inside out of the sun?"

She nodded, and he followed her up the gangplank and into the relatively cool interior of the main salon.

"Sit down. I'll be right back," she said and moved across the gilded room to say a few words to Ira Pennington, her cousin Charlotte's husband and co-owner of the _New Orleans Lady._

Bringing two tall frosty glasses back to the table with her, Kitty sat down adjacent to the physician. "I think I know what you're going to say, John, and you don't…"

"You couldn't possibly. You have no idea," he replied wryly and caught the hand that was idly tracing wet circles on the side of the glass and held it.

"Kitty, your marshal's here. I mean, he's in the city."

Kitty's eyes widened and her face paled. "Matt? Matt's in New Orleans?"

John Chapman tightened his hold on her hand and nodded. "He's in the indigent ward at Charity Hospital. I saw him on my rounds this morning. He's…Kitty, he's been badly beaten. They tell me he was unconscious when he was brought in three nights ago, and he still is. A carriage driver found him in the street about a block from the train station…no baggage, no money, no identification. The best guess is that he was attacked right after he got off the train."

Kitty's face went even paler and she struggled to keep her composure as she tried to stand. "This makes no sense. I don't understand. I need to go to him. The indigent ward? John, why is he there?"

"Easy, Kitty." Chapman's strong hands pulled her back to her seat. His soft voice continued, "Until I walked in and recognized him, he was just another drunk or bum picked up on Rampart Street. Just be grateful that driver got him to a hospital. I won't lie to you; he's in pretty bad shape."

The beautiful redhead drew a deep breath and broke the steel grip she had on Chapman's hand. "Take me to him. We have to get him out of there…transfer him to Touro or Dieu…you know I'll pay whatever it…John, he is going to be all right, isn't he?"

Even now, and in spite of everything, a world without Matt Dillon in it was inconceivable to her.

"I hope so, Kitty, I surely hope so."

John Chapman used his considerable influence and reputation as a physician to transfer the "indigent" man to the finest medical facility in the city.

Despite the very best of care by the most skilled medical staff in New Orleans, Matt continued to lie unconscious and delirious in his private room at Hotel Dieu Hospital, his massive frame dwarfing the narrow hospital bed, his broken ribs bound tight, his injured knee grotesquely swollen and painful.

For a week he mumbled and sweated in the too-small bed, his only coherent word a plaintive and repetitive cry for "Kitty."

For her part, Kitty had explained the situation quickly and sketchily to a confused but understanding Ira Pennington and practically moved into Matt's hospital room. Work could wait, and the social season was over, for her at least.

Day and night she sat by his side, holding his huge hand between her two small ones, placing cool cloths on his bruised face, smoothing his matted curls and forcing small sips of water and broth between his parched lips.

It never once occurred to her that this was the same man she had been trying desperately to forget for nearly a year.


	3. Chapter 3

**"Mardi Gras Misunderstanding"**

**Chapter Three**

At the beginning of the following week, John Chapman stopped by Matt's room on his regular hospital rounds, accompanied by the two prominent physicians who were in charge of the lawman's care.

"Kitty," he said and beckoned to her.

Kitty squeezed Matt's hand and slipped into the hall to join the three doctors. "What's wrong, John? He's not getting any better, is he?"

"Well, it's not quite as bad as all that. The broken ribs are healing nicely and the fever's down. As for his knee, we won't really know until he puts his weight on it, but I'm hopeful Dr. Zeigler here was able to stabilize it somewhat."

Turning to the tall young man on his left, he continued, "Doctor Picard has some other concerns he'd like to discuss with you."

The young Creole gazed at the beautiful redhead for a moment, trying to determine how best to present his concerns. Obviously the big man in the hospital room and this woman were close, although how close he couldn't possibly have guessed.

"It's not his physical status I'm concerned about, ma'am. It's his mental state that worries me. I've studied psychiatry, the human mind, extensively at The Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore. And I've seen several cases similar to this one at the teaching hospital there."

"John?" Kitty turned troubled eyes to her old friend. "Do they think Matt's crazy?"

In spite of the seriousness of the moment, Chapman had to smile. Giving a nod toward the big man visible through the slightly open door, he replied, "Kitty, there's no person on this earth saner than that man in there, although only God knows how he's managed to keep his sanity considering all that he's seen and had to do."

Dr. Etienne Picard took up the conversation. "No, ma'am, I am not suggesting that your...friend...is crazy. I am, however, suggesting that for some reason his mind has chosen to take a rest. Perhaps it is as Dr. Chapman alludes--that, in his line of work, he has seen and had to do some terrible things--and now that he is in an unconscious state, his mind likes it there and wants to stay. That may not be the reason at all, but I feel relatively certain that his mind is escaping from something, something he prefers not to face."

"But Matt's been unconscious lots of times, and he's always come back before. He's been a lawman for over twenty years. Surely his mind wouldn't just now decide that it can't deal with his job."

"You never know. The machination of the human brain and mind is still very new and uncharted territory for most doctors. I've been fortunate to have had more experience with it than most, but I don't presume to have all the answers. Let me try to explain it to you this way. There is no physical reason for his lack of response to medical treatment; therefore, we need to consider a mental reason."

"And if we don't find one?"

Picard paused, choosing his words carefully. "Then, barring illness, he could live the rest of his life as you see him today. He's a strong man, and could have many years left. But he would live them in an institution for the insane unless a family member claims him and agrees to care for him."

Kitty's eyes fluttered and her lips turned white. Her body swayed and she would have fallen save for John Chapman's supporting arms. "Hang on, honey. It's going to be all right."

Dr. Picard brought the chair from Matt's room and helped Chapman ease Kitty into it. Dr. Zeigler, the orthopaedic surgeon, who had been a silent observer to this point, poured a glass of water from the pitcher in Matt's room and handed it to her.

She drank the water and looked up at the kindly gray-haired man who reminded her of Doc. Tears filled her eyes and streamed down her pale cheeks. "It's not his job. This is all my fault," she whispered. "I did this to him."

"Kitty, you don't know..."

"I do know, John. You...you don't know the whole story."

Picard and Zeigler looked at each other, realizing there was information here that might be useful.

Dr. Zeigler pressed a gentle hand against her shoulder, "Perhaps, Miss Russell, if you could tell us the whole story..."

She took a deep, bracing breath and nodded.


	4. Chapter 4

**MARDI GRAS MISUNDERSTANDING**

Disclaimer: No ownership, no profit...just love and nostalgia for these wonderful characters.

Chapter Four

Kitty bared her soul to the three physicians, ready to tell them anything that would help Matt find his way back from wherever his mind had taken him.

When she had finished, the doctors agreed that hospital care was no longer a necessity, and Kitty willingly took him home to the little Victorian house on St. Ann Street with John Chapman stopping in daily to check on his physical condition and Etienne Picard, as a special favor to Chapman, stopping by every few days to evaluate his mental one.

Another week went by with no change in Matt's condition. Kitty refused all offers of help except for Celine, an elderly quadroon who lived nearby and came in as needed to assist with changing the sheets and doing the marketing. For the most part, her life now consisted of sitting at Matt's side by day and sleeping on the chaise lounge next to his bed at night. He was quiet and compliant most of the time, although his pathetic pleas for "Kitty"continued.

Each time he called her name, Kitty would whisper reassurance. "I'm here, Matt. Right here." To no avail.

On the eighth night after Kitty had brought him home, he appeared more agitated than usual, tossing and turning and calling her name over and over.

In his confused mind, Matt almost thought that he wasn't inside the hideous nightmare that had been tormenting his heart and soul, day and night for what seemed like forever. She seemed so close, so real. Maybe, maybe if he called again. "Kitty...please."

Her tender, loving heart breaking over her inability to reach him, she sat down on the edge of his bed, laced her fingers through his shaggy curls and tried once more. "I'm right here, Matt."

The tossing stopped as if by magic. "Ki...Kitty?" Eyes still closed, his big hands moved slowly to her upper arms and held her. His voice, weak and raspy, asked again, "Kitty?"

"Yeah, it's me, Matt. I'm right here." She held her breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

The blue eyes squinted open, blinked, and slowly focused on the beautiful face smiling down at him, the face of the woman he loved. "It's...really you. You're...here."

"It's really me. Welcome back, Cowboy."

His eyes scanned the unfamiliar room, a puzzled frown forming on his bruised face. "Wh..."

"You don't know where you are, do you? You're in New Orleans, at my house in the French Quarter. You're safe. No one's going to hurt you here."

Even in the dim lamplight, she could see the dark cloud lifting from his intense blue eyes.

"How...long?"

"You're not going to like this answer but, let's see, you've been here for eight days and you were in the hospital a week before that, and in the ward for three days before that, so it's about 18-19 days since you were attacked."

"Attacked?"

"Don't you remember? From what we can piece together, you came in on the evening train and were attacked as you were leaving the depot. At least that's what we think happened because a carriage driver found you in the street about a block from there. Is any of this sounding familiar?"

Matt frowned again and shook his head.

"Well, don't worry about it now. Fortunately the driver took you to Charity Hospital. Since you had no identification, money or baggage, they put you in the indigent ward. John Chapman makes rounds there twice a week and recognized you, so he..."

At the mention of Chapman's name, Matt became noticeably agitated, moving restlessly in the big bed, trying to get up.

"I've gotta get...out of...here, Kitty."

"Matt!" She pressed her palm firmly against his bare chest. "You've been unconscious for nearly three weeks and now you want to go running off somewhere? I don't think so! Just lie back and get some rest. I'll make a nice soup you can have when you wake up. Just sleep now, Matt. Please."

The small effort of attempting to push his big frame upward had sapped all of his strength, and the next time Matt awoke, it was to the sound of Kitty's voice talking to someone in the next room. "He seemed fine...well, maybe not fine, but he was alert and carrying on a conversation. Then he got really agitated about something and tried to get up. He couldn't, of course, so I told him to go back to sleep, and I sent Celine to get you."

"What happened just before he got agitated; what were you talking about?"

"Well, I told him he had been attacked, that a carriage driver had taken him to the hospital, and that you had recognized him when you made your rounds. Come to think of it, he seemed okay until I mentioned your name."

"That's all...nothing else?"

"Not a thing, John."

"Let me take a look at him."

John Chapman entered the guest room where Matt lay staring at the ceiling. His eyes were open, but he squeezed them tight and grimaced when Chapman said, "How are you feeling, Marshal?"

"I've felt better," came Matt's characteristic reply.

"I'm sure you have, but you have no idea how glad we are to see your eyes open and to hear you talking, especially this lovely lady here. Now what's this about your trying to get out of bed?"

"I need...gotta go...Kitty doesn't want..." And he stopped, as if suddenly aware of his audience.

"Well, in about another two weeks we'll talk about getting you out of that bed. In the meantime, I want you to stay right here and do exactly what Kitty tells you. She's an excellent nurse, you know."

Matt turned remorseful blue eyes toward Kitty. "I've given her plenty of practice over the years."

She smiled gently. "Yeah, you sure have. Now, how about that soup...it's potato with leeks."

"Sounds great. I'll try, Kitty."

Turning to leave, Chapman reiterated, "You listen to her, Matt. I'll check on you again tomorrow." He had already stepped into the next room when Matt called from the bed.

"Uh, Doctor, what's this...this thing on my leg?" He pointed to the hinged wooden frame encasing his right knee.

"It's a brace, Matt. That knee has taken a lot of abuse over the years. The kneecap is almost totally torn from the supporting muscles and tendons. The orthopaedic surgeon could move it back and forth easily with just his bare hand. The brace should help to hold the kneecap in place until the muscles and tendons are strong again."

"How long until I can walk again?"

"Truthfully, I don't know, but I'll send Bob Zeigler over here tomorrow to talk to you about it. He's the best ortho man this city has."

Matt nodded. "I'm obliged, Doctor."

Standing at the foot of the bed, Kitty placed a hand on his leg. "I'll see John out and be right back with a tray. In the meantime, **don't move!**"

The big man grinned sheepishly, "Yes, ma'am."


	5. Chapter 5

**Mardi Gras Misunderstanding**

**Many, many thanks to all who are reading and commenting on this story.**

**Chapter Five**

Matt managed to eat two bowls of the soup, a thick slice of bread and drink a glass of milk before saying he had had enough. When Kitty bent to remove the tray from his lap, he grabbed her wrist and held tight.

"You're coming back?"

Was it fear she detected in his voice? "'Course I'm coming back. I'm just taking the dishes into the kitchen...unless you'd rather hold them on your lap. I'm also going to make a pot of coffee. Feel like drinking some?"

If he said "yes," maybe she'd sit and drink some with him. "Coffee sounds good."

He reluctantly released her wrist, and she picked up the tray and moved out of the room, puzzled. What on earth is going on inside that handsome head, she wondered. Just now he acted as if I were going to disappear from this house and, earlier, he had said 'Kitty doesn't want.' Kitty doesn't want what?

Kitty carried two steaming cups of chicory laced coffee into the small guest bedroom. She handed one to Matt and settled herself into the chaise lounge, tucking her legs under her as if planning to stay a while.

"Feel like talking, Cowboy?"

His voice thick with resignation he said, "What's to talk about? I'll do whatever you and Chapman say I need to do. I'll get out of your house...and out of your life...as soon as possible. Just tell me one thing, Kitty. Why?"

"Why what?"

"Don't play coy, Kitty; it's not your style."

"You're right, Matt. I do owe you an explanation. But this is so hard, and I don't...don't know exactly how to start, but, okay, settle in...it's kind of a long story."

"I have plenty of time...at least two weeks according to my _**doctor**_." He spat out the last word as if it tasted bitter on his lips.

"What do you have against John? You seemed to be friends when he was in Dodge, but today you've acted as if he were the enemy. Let me tell you, he moved heaven and earth to get you the best medical treatment this city has to offer. He's been a good friend to both of us, Matt, even if you weren't in any condition to know it."

"Just a bit better friend to one of us than to the other," Matt muttered under his breath.

"What does that mean?"

"It means I saw you that night, Kitty...the night I was attacked. I saw you with him." His voice was flat and low. "It all came back to me when you mentioned his name earlier."

She stared, dumbfounded.

"I'd been in the city all day. I saw you in the morning at the market, in the afternoon on the waterfront and at night...in Chapman's arms. I saw your arms go around his neck. I saw him kiss you. I...I wasn't walking from the train that night, Kit, I was walking to it." Here the beloved voice faltered. "I was getting out of your life, once and for all. And I still will...just as soon as I'm able."

"Oh, Matt...no, no. You're so wrong. Yes, you did see me in his arms, you did see him kiss me. But you didn't hear what we were saying. It's true...he, he...tried. But I couldn't do it, Matt. I could never do that. I was telling him 'no' and I asked him to leave. Honest, that little scene you witnessed is as far as things have ever gone between John and me. He's been a wonderful friend, but that's all. Please believe me, Matt, please. There's no one but you." Here her own voice dropped. "Never has been since the day we met."

His anguished heart wanted so much to believe those words. Kitty didn't lie. Maybe...

"Perhaps I misunderstood."

"Oh, you did misunderstand, Matt, you surely did. But what were you doing following me around? Why didn't you let me know you were in the city?"

He looked embarrassed. "You know how you always say I have to do things my way...the hard way? Maybe you're right. I wanted to see you first, on your own territory, so to speak. I wanted to make certain you were, uh, unencumbered, before I made my presence known. I watched you all day from a safe distance. You seemed happy, carefree. I was going to knock on your door when you came home that night, but then you came home with him, and I..."

"...and you got all jealous and jumped to a lot of wrong conclusions. Oh, Matt, everything that happened that night could have been prevented if only..."

"It's over, Kitty. Forget about it."

She took a sip of the lukewarm coffee. "You nearly died, Matt. How am I supposed to forget that? I'm so sorry. I'm so very, very sorry."

"Not your fault, Kit. I'm the one who misunderstood what I saw. And I'm sorry I doubted you, but it sure looked...well, you know what it looked like to me."

Here his voice developed a slight edge. "That explains one night. Now perhaps you'd like to tell me why you ran away and why I haven't heard from you for nearly a year."

"I...I'll try to explain it to you, Matt, but it's not going to be easy."

Unexpectedly, he didn't want it to be easy for her. Some warped sense of justice inside of him suddenly flared to the surface and demanded that she suffer, too, wanted her to hurt as he had been hurt.

"I'm listening," was all he said.


	6. Chapter 6

**Mardi Gras Misunderstanding**

Once again, thanks so much to everyone who is reading and commenting.

Disclaimer: No ownership, no profit...just love and nostalgia for these wonderful characters.

Chapter Six

"First of all, technically, I didn't run away. Sam knew where I was going, and I did leave the letters for you and Doc explaining a lot more details, so you can't accuse me of running away."

"What letters? I don't know anything about a letter and neither does Doc. Surely he would have mentioned...maybe you better start at the beginning, Kit."

"Apparently so. Right after you left for Mexico I got a telegram from Ira--you know, my cousin Charlotte's husband--saying that Charl was pregnant and not at all well. Charlotte's four years younger than I am, and this was her third pregnancy, but the other two ended in miscarriages. Anyway, the doctor ordered her to bed and Ira thought perhaps it would be good for her if I could keep her company for a while. I don't know if I ever told you, the three of us grew up together. Ira and I have known each other since we were in our cradles, so he was a friend long before he married Charl. His telegram made me think about how long I'd been away from my beautiful city and how much I missed what little family I have. The timing was perfect...no herds, you were gone anyway, and Sam's completely capable of running the Long Branch. So I decided to take a vacation."

"I sent a telegram back to Ira saying I'd be there soon as possible. You were part way to Mexico, and Doc was at that big medical conference in Denver, so I wrote long letters to both of you, telling you where I was going and giving you Ira's name and address. I put the envelopes right in the center of Doc's desk...it was all nice and neat, so I know they didn't get lost...one was addressed to Doc and the other had your name on it." She paused and blushed. "There was some pretty personal stuff in yours, so I was kinda leery about leavin' it at the jail."

Matt groaned and swore. "Damn...the break-in. According to Festus and Newly, the night before Doc got back from Denver, a drifter broke into his office and ransacked the place. Apparently he was lookin' for morphine 'cause that, a few bottles of laudanum, some needles and syringes were the only things missing, but the place was a mess, or so they told me. The letters must have gotten lost or destroyed in the confusion."

"I'm sorry, Kitty...sorry I doubted you. I should have known you wouldn't just disappear again. But why didn't you write?"

"Why didn't you?" she countered, but in her mind, the words in her letter stood out big and bold:

...and so I think the time apart will be good for both of us. I look forward to hearing from you when you return from Mexico. But if you don't write, I'll know that you have decided not to let a woman in your life, or not this woman at least. I love you, Matt, and I always will. Be safe and happy, Cowboy.  
Kitty

She heard Matt's rational voice speaking. "New Orleans isn't Dodge. I couldn't very well address a letter to 'Kathleen Russell, New Orleans, Louisiana' and hope that you'd get it."

"You probably could have, but that wouldn't be you. You could have used your influence, your connections, to find me if you had really wanted to, but you didn't want to do that, did you? You wanted me to be the first one to write."

"Wellll...yeah. Remember, Kitty, I never saw that letter. I didn't know until two minutes ago that the reason you left Dodge was to visit your cousin. For all I knew, you left because you were mad at me for some reason I wasn't even aware of. Let's face it, if you were mad, you probably would have torn the letter up without opening it anyway."

"I wasn't really mad, but I was hurt...very, very hurt. It started when Elijah Wright was killed out in Pueblo. You said, 'that's what happens when a lawman lets a woman in his life.' Now what the hell was I supposed to make of that? Then you were away so much. You were in Colorado for six weeks and before that you had been in St. Louie and, and Topeka before that. When you were in town you didn't come by the Long Branch very often and you spent a lot of nights at the jail. I hardly ever saw you any more, so I could only assume you didn't want to see me. The trip to Mexico was kind of the last straw."

Matt felt the need to defend himself. "Kitty, the War Department did keep me pretty busy for a while, especially right after Elijah was killed."

And then his voice softened as the full impact of her words...his own words, really...hit him.

"But Kitty, I never meant...oh, God, honey...no. I never meant you...never meant that I don't want you in my life. I was talkin' about Josephine. You met her; you know what she's like. Josephine with her Boston breeding and her blue blood and her high society ways. She was never right for Eli in the first place. Frank Reardon and Chauncey Deamon and me...we tried to tell him, talked 'til we were blue ourselves. Don't know why he couldn't see it. Much as I miss him, at least he's getting some well-deserved peace and quiet now."

"I'm sorry you lost your friend, Matt. But you kept going away, and I never had a chance to talk to you about it...or about what you meant by that statement. It sounded pretty bad to me...pretty final."

"So you just let it fester and grow bigger and more painful."

"Uh hunh. And when Ira's telegram came, I decided I deserved to get away and to forget about Dodge and everyone in it for a while."

"Go on."

"It was exciting to be back in New Orleans, and it was so good to see Charl and Ira again. Several of my childhood friends still live here in the Quarter, and I was having a social life the likes of which I haven't known in 25 years. It was at one of the dinner parties that I ran into John Chapman again. He's a very prominent and respected doctor down here, and we started uh, seeing each other socially. We were...we are...friends, Matt. Good friends, but nothing more, and John understands why we can never be anything more."

"In July Charlotte had her baby, a little girl, all pink and healthy. I thought I'd stay a bit longer to help with little Arianna Kathleen, and then I'd go back to Dodge. But as time went on, things started to get kinda complicated."

"I had a taste of freedom, the first real freedom I'd known in my entire life. First I was my mother's daughter, then I was Panacea's...well, let's just say I worked for her. Then I was your woman. Oh, I don't mean that the way it sounds. I've always loved being with you, being your woman. But I was finally on my own, and I, I liked it."

Matt started to respond. "Kitty, I never..."

"Please, Matt. Let me finish before I lose my nerve."

He nodded, his blue eyes now hooded and unreadable.

She swallowed and continued. "This is the really hard part. As I said, I've always loved being with you and being your woman, and you've always given me the freedom to do what I wanted. You've never held me back. I've done it to myself. For nearly twenty years, my first thoughts have always been of you...what would Matt like, what would Matt think, what would be best for Matt?"

"For nearly twenty years, thoughts of you have filled my every waking moment, and my dreams, too. I've spent more than half my life watching you ride off to somewhere, terrified that you wouldn't be coming back. Then came the waiting, always the horrible waiting, watching the street day after day, lying in bed at night, window open, even in the dead of winter so that I wouldn't miss the first sound of Buck's hooves when you turned on to Front Street, jumping up at the sound to see if you were sitting straight in the saddle or slumped, barely hanging on. Then waiting again, waiting for the sound of your footsteps on the back stairs, waiting to feel you in my arms again, making sure you were all right."

Matt's voice was tight and low. "I'm sorry, Kitty, I never meant to be such a burden."

"You were never a burden, Matt. I loved trying to please you, to do things that would make you happy. It's just that I was so busy being your woman, I forgot to take time to be my own woman. I just kind of lost myself."

"I felt that life was passing me by. There are so many things I haven't done...seen the grand palaces of Europe, or even the streets of New York. I don't have a husband; I don't have children; I don't even have close women friends. Matt, my best friends in Dodge are a cantankerous old doctor, a bartender and an illiterate hillman..."

"...any one of whom would lay down his life for you in a heartbeat. And you have me, Kitty, unless I don't count any more."

"Oh, you count, Matt, you count more than anything or anyone. That's why this is so difficult. I love you with all my heart and I always will. But I've found myself here. I love living in my little house instead of those noisy rooms above that damned saloon. I love my courtyard garden and being able to work in it. I like breathing real air, even if it is humid, rather than dirt and grit. I like eating in good restaurants and I like having a social life that doesn't include drovers and drifters and buffalo hunters who haven't seen a woman in six months and a bath tub in twice that long."

"And there's the New Orleans Lady." She smiled like a proud mother. "Ira and I own a floating gambling palace. A very successful gambling palace, I might add. You need to get better so that you can see it. We'll take it upriver, maybe all the way to Memphis, just the two of us and the pilot. Oh, Matt...it would be heaven to be alone on the river with you."

The last words left her mouth before she could stop them. And once out, she couldn't take them back.

Matt watched her carefully, his eyes wary, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. "Let me make sure I have this right. You love me and you always will. You don't want to be my woman in Dodge. You don't even want to be in Dodge anymore. But you want the two of us to take a long, slow riverboat trip to Memphis. Do I have it right, Kit?"

"Well, when you say it like that, it doesn't sound so good, but..."

"What happens after our little boat trip ends? We shake hands and go our separate ways?"

"Uh...no, that's not what I want."

"What do you want, Kitty? Do you even know?


	7. Chapter 7

**"Mardi Gras Misunderstanding"**

**Chapter Seven**

"More than anything else I want you to be safe and happy, Matt."

In spite of his best efforts, the big man chuckled deep in his chest. "Stop, Kitty. Listen to yourself. I ask you what you want and the first words out of your mouth are what you want for me, not what you want for yourself."

She ducked her head in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. "Old habits, ya know." She looked up at him and smiled sadly. "Is that what we've become, Cowboy, an old habit to each other?"

"You know better, Kit. We're more than that, a whole lot more. We have way too much going for us to toss it all aside now. Climb up here and let me tell you a few things." He patted the space beside him on the bed.

She hesitated, knowing full well that if he touched her now she would never be free of him. But did she really want to be?

"I...I'm not sure I can do that."

" 'Course you can, honey. Just bend your knees and push yourself up. Then take, uh, three, four steps around the bed, bend your knees again, and sit down over here."

For another fraction of a second she resisted. Then she moved slowly and deliberately around the foot of the bed, gathered her full skirts under her and sat down in a spot she judged to be just beyond the reach of his long arms.

Matt rolled his eyes toward the heavens and silently asked why it had been his fate to fall in love with the most fascinating, frustrating and stubborn woman west...he remembered where they were...or east of the Mississippi.

"I'm sorry I teased you, Kitty. But I have some things I need to say to you, and I need you to be close to me when I say them. I've had a lot of months to do some thinking, and a lot of those thoughts...all right, all of those thoughts...were about you. This might surprise you, but I understand what you're saying. My answer to that question would be the same. More than anything, I want you to be safe and happy. That's what people in love do. They want the best for each other and each one places the other person first."

"That's pretty impressive, Cowboy. How'd you get so wise?"

He squeezed his eyes tight as if remembering was painful. "Will Ronniger gave me that wisdom one night, along with one hell of a hangover."

"You and Will got drunk? I'd have paid to see that. What did Bess say?"

"Uh, actually, she's the one who set us up. She got worried about me...and you, of course...and decided I needed someone to set me straight about...well, about love...and, uh, men and women. So she invited me out to the farm for supper and then sent Will and me and a couple of bottles out to the barn for the night. I came to my senses that night, Kit, and then I came here just as fast as I could."

Wishing for about the millionth time in their relationship that he were more articulate, Matt swallowed hard and continued. "You know I'm not very good at expressing my feelings, but I'm gonna try, so please just bear with me. Okay?"

She nodded. "Go on, Matt." As she spoke, she edged slightly closer to the big man on the opposite side of the bed.

"I love you so much, Kitty, so very, very much. And you are so much a part of me that sometimes I...I guess I forget that you're not me, that you're a beautiful, intelligent, fascinating and desirable woman, and that you have...needs and wants that are different from mine. But I never take you for granted. I guess it might seem that way to you, but I swear, I don't. I know I don't say it as often as I should, but never doubt my love for you, Kitty. I love and respect you with all my heart. I...I know other men could make a...a prettier speech and talk poetry to you, but they couldn't be any more sincere."

She scooted closer, her sapphire eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

"That was beautiful, Matt. Maybe it wasn't all flowery and poetic, but I know it came straight from your heart. I know you love me and I know you respect me, too. You tell me every day in so many little ways...the way your eyes smolder and smile when you pause outside those batwing doors, the brush of your arm against mine when we lean against the bar, the gentle warmth of your hand on the small of my back, the way you touch the brim of your hat every time you see me. Matt, you show me more love and respect every day than half the married women in Dodge get in a lifetime."

The crushing weight was slowly lifting from his broad chest, but the hardest part was yet to come.

"Kitty, I'm not sure where we went wrong this time...I just want to...to make it right. You know I've always hesitated to talk about the future. And I've always steered away from making promises to you. I've never been sure I had a future, so there wasn't any point in thinkin' or talkin' about it. And I've never wanted to promise you anything 'cause I didn't want to have to break that promise."

"Oh, Matt, you..." One final scoot and she was next to him, facing him, her slender fingers lacing themselves through his.

"Shhh, let me finish, please." He lifted their clasped hands and brushed his lips lightly across the back of hers.

"I think maybe the time has come to talk about that future. I'm not kidding myself...I know I won't be wearin' this badge much longer. Those hills are gettin' steeper; the trail's gettin' longer. I like to think I have a few good years left, but maybe this time the knee, well, maybe it won't come back. If that's the case, I can take off this badge with no regrets. But my future's not worth a tinker's dam if you're not in it, Kitty. What do I need to do to get you to come back to Dodge with me?"

She sighed and dropped her eyes from his face. "I'm not sure I want to go back," she whispered. "I, I want to be with you more than anything, but...but I don't want to lose myself again. And you, you always said when you took off the badge you were going into the high country, back to the 'big lonely' you said."

"I'm not sure I even belong out there any more...been civilized too long. "Kitty, I watched Adam Kimbro meet his maker out there. Saw a lot of others, too, good men and bad men alike." He clenched his jaw tight. "It's a cold, lonely death."

He paused, then shook his head and blew out a deep breath. "Nah, when my time comes, I want to be in a soft bed with your arms around me."

"Matt, don't talk like that, please." Her tears threatened to spill over. "I, I guess I could go back to Dodge, but I can't go back to those awful rooms again. Maybe I could buy or build a little house just on the edge of town. I could even have my garden." She gave him a trembling smile. "And who knows, maybe Delmonico's will get a new cook and the buffalo hunters will learn about personal hygiene."

"I'll try to change, honey. I can't promise you the grand palaces of Europe, but if you still want, I'll go on that riverboat trip to Memphis and maybe I could see the streets of New York with you. And we could come back here to visit. After all, little Arianna Kathleen's going to need her Aunt Kitty to teach her about life and..."

"...to warn her about falling in love with incredibly handsome, but unbelievably stubborn, frustrating lawmen."

"If she ever has a little brother, I'll warn him to beware of beautiful redheaded women who work their way into a man's heart and stay there forever."

They looked at each other and laughed, nine months of hurt and anguish and longing melting away in the warmth of their smiles. It felt so good to laugh together again. This is what I've been missing, Kitty thought as she leaned toward him, her hand sliding over his bare chest, carefully avoiding the bandaged area.

Matt's arm slipped around her back, pulling her against his uninjured side. "Tell me something, Kit. You said I was in the hospital for a week and I've been here for eight days. I must have been in pretty bad shape if I was unconscious for that long. How come they let you bring me here? What'd you tell them?"

"I told them," her face flushed, "well, let's just say we aren't exactly a secret any more."

"You told three strangers all about us?"

"Not exactly...only two of them were strangers. Matt, I'd have told the devil himself anything he wanted to know if it would have helped you to get better. I told them all about us...all nineteen years of our love, our arguments, your fears for me, my fears for you. My disappointments over the years. Your close calls over the years. I told them I left on this visit while you were out of town and we didn't have a chance to talk, or say good-bye. I told them about the letter I wrote saying maybe you didn't want me in your life anymore. 'Course I thought you had read it and that's what was wrong...what your mind was trying to escape from. I had no idea you had seen me with John."

"Anyway, the doctors, especially Dr. Picard, the psychiatrist, thought you'd be a lot better off here. "In fact," she blushed, "his exact words to the others were 'he needs to be with that woman more than he needs all our medicine.' "

For an eternity they stared into each other's eyes, each seeking comfort and reassurance in those blue depths, reveling in the sheer joy of being together again.

Finally, Kitty spoke. "You've had a busy day, Cowboy. I think you need to get some sleep."

"Will you...will you stay with me, Kit...tonight I mean?"

"Matt, you really need to rest, and I'm tired, too. I'll be right through that next room. I'll hear you if you call."

"Please?"

She looked at him for a moment, her heart in her eyes, then turned away.

Fifteen minutes later, clad in a simple white cotton nightgown, auburn curls tumbling across her shoulders, she climbed tentatively into the bed beside the man she loved with all her heart and had missed with all her being.

"I'll stay with you for tonight, but remember you're still a sick man. Promise me that you're going to sleep...no funny business."

"I promise. I won't wiggle so much as my...little finger...without your permission."

She settled in beside him, pressing a gentle kiss on his lips. She was nearly asleep when she felt a very large, warm palm cupping her breast through the thin fabric of her gown.

Her breath hitched. This was heaven; this was the reason she would consider foresaking all logic, all reason and going back to Dodge. She had proved to herself that she could live...exist, might be a better word...without him. But why would she want to? Somehow, her reasons didn't seem important any more. Nothing was important except the man beside her, that stubborn irresistible man who was so much a part of her, just as she was a part of him. Two parts of a whole, joined at the heart.

She felt his fingernails scrape gently across her nipple.

Softly she murmured, "Matt, you promised."

His voice, husky and deep replied, "I lied."

**Epilogue**

In the early morning light, Kitty awoke to find herself still held tight in the circle of Matt's left arm, her face pressed into his warm shoulder. As she lifted her head to look into his handsome face, relaxed and boyish in sleep, her gaze fell on an ugly, puckered scar under the spot where her head had lain...the result of some long ago encounter with Indians.

In the dim light, her eyes lovingly scanned his still muscular chest, re-acquainting herself with the myriad scars marring his beloved body. She smiled as she remembered the stories of some, recoiled as the agony of others came to mind...the one so near his heart that had terrified her and sent her running once before. And there was the oldest one, just below his waist, faded and smooth now, the souvenir of a knife fight down along the Chisholm years ago. He had told her the story of that fight and that scar their first night together, back when it had been the only blemish on his magnificent body.

There were other flaws, under the bandages and across nearly every inch of his long, hard frame. She knew them all and loved him in spite of these seeming imperfections. In fact, they made him even more attractive in her eyes because they were testament to this strong, tender, simple yet complex, good and amazing man who stood for law and justice, no matter what the cost to his own life or safety.

And then she knew. In that moment, any lingering doubts she may have had about going back to Dodge faded into oblivion. He wasn't perfect. Neither was she. They would continue to make mistakes with each other, but they would never, could never, stop loving each other. And the scars of this misunderstanding would be forever etched across their hearts, painful and raw just now, but with time and love, these scars, like all the others, would become faded and smooth.


End file.
